She stepped out of the taxi and glanced at the small golden watch on her left hand. It was 10 o'clock p.m. The street was dark and the meeting wasn't until 10:30. Sarah had tried to avoid this situation. Normally, she preferred to arrive to every occasion early. In fact, the Owen family motto is "if you're not early, you're late." So she was surprised to find, for the first time in her life, she wished she was late. She imagined herself jumping headfirst back into the taxi, and telling the driver, "Just drive, as far away from here as possible. Into the ocean if you wish."
She peered about, searching for a park bench to rest on and waste a little bit of time. Say, oh, about a half of an hour, but no luck. The street was empty. She collected her leather briefcase and bright red suitcase from the backseat. Clumsily, she dug through her jacket pocket to find fare for the taxi, almost pulling out her wand. She had just discovered a large bill, when the driver snatched it out of her hand through his window and mumbled, "thanks lady," under his breath.
"Yeah, okay, YOU'RE WELCOME!" She yelled at the back of the taxi, which was getting smaller and smaller as it sped away. "I needed change damn it." She had lived in the muggle world for too long, and had grown dependent on muggle money. She rather liked bills, and the way the paper felt in her hands. American money had a certain smell to it, which she found lovely.
It was a short walk to 12 Grimmauld Place and she considered how fitting that name was for how she felt at the moment. Grim. She had decided to have the taxi drop her off one block away, you never knew who was watching these days. Even taxi drivers couldn't be trusted. But maybe her red pumps weren't the best shoe choice for a brisk stroll. Her wheeled suitcase made a light whirling noise on the concrete sidewalk as she walked, which Sarah found soothing.
She reached the oversized black door in no time, lifted what felt like a twenty pound door knocker, let go and waited. Seconds, which felt like minutes passed, and Sarah turned and began walking down the stairs. Her courage had left her. And who knows? Maybe she had the wrong 12 Grimmauld Place. Best to leave quickly and speak with Dumbledore at Hogwarts, she thought. "I don't really need to be a part of this meeting anyway," she said aloud, "I don't have anything to add."
"Sarah! Wait a minute. Where are my manners? What I meant, of course is, Hello Dr. Owens!" Sarah was seized at the shoulders by Arthur Weasley, committing her to an overzealous hug.
He let go, leaving her frazzled, but relieved. Arthur had a way of relieving the anxiety of even the most anxious person, and Sarah was always anxious.
"Arthur, my friend, stick with Sarah. Doctor is a formality we will reserve for the students of Hogwarts."
Sarah had been approached by Dumbledore, during a typically slow day at the Ministry of Magic. She had been doodling little intricate flowers on a notepad when he had knocked on her office door. Of all the people that could have walked through that door, she had never expected Albus Dumbledore.
Sarah Owens was a clinical psychologist, specializing in adolescents and trauma. She had earned her Ph.D. from a muggle University. After her graduation from Hogwarts, she moved to the United States, and, though it took a small (or rather large) confundus charm, she was accepted into Vanderbilt University. She never felt as though she had cheated her way into college. Sarah had earned it. She just didn't technically have the qualifications to attend a prestigious muggle University with a diploma from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, even if she was head girl.
"Sarah it is then. We miss you at the Ministry."
"You're a terrible liar Arthur," Sarah snickered, "An entire year at the Ministry and I only had one patient. Ever. I know all of you thought I was a joke."
"And not even a funny one at that, my dear. Psychology is such a serious business. A bore really. We should leave that magic to the muggles," Arthur said solemnly.
"I'm surprised at you Arthur. You always struck me as a man who could appreciate muggle accomplishments. Modern psychology is not restricted to the muggle world. We have the same brains, and the same hearts," she replied straightly.
"You are quite right," Arthur said, reconsidering. "Come, come! I've had enough lingering around front doors. Let's have a butter beer."
"How about a fire whiskey?" Sarah asked, lightheartedly.
"A fire whiskey it is," Arthur said, leading Sarah into the kitchen.
"Molly, may I introduce Sarah Owens. We worked together at the Ministry. Sarah, this is my wife, Molly Weasley."
"Sarah Owens! It's so nice to finally meet you!" Molly said, looking up from what was obviously quite a feast she was preparing, so late at night too. Knives were flying across the kitchen, and onions floated by Sarah's face, causing her eyes to burn.
"The pleasure is mine Molly," Sarah responded, reaching out her hand. Molly chuckled and wiped her floured hands on her apron, pulling her in for a hug. Must be a Weasley thing, Sarah thought.
Molly circled around to continue cooking, "Sarah Owens at last! I've heard so much about you," Molly said over her shoulder, fiddling with a can of broth.
"Only good things I hope, but I didn't really have the best reputation at the Ministry," Sarah said.
"Oh that is unfortunate dear," Molly said, giving Sarah a sad look, "But no, Remus and Sirius have told me a great deal about the infamous Sarah Owens. You are featured in so many of the stories of their youth at Hogwarts. I'll admit, I've had some laughs at your expense. All in good fun," Molly chuckled, mentally recalling what was probably a story which would make Sarah blush.
"Oh, yes," Sarah replied, "many memories." She felt the burning in her eyes again, and she looked around for the floating onions but found none. Unsurprising, recalling her youth at Hogwarts inevitably lead to her thinking of Lily and James, and she always had tears when she remembered them.
Molly's back was still turned to Sarah, so she didn't notice. "Sirius is certainly looking forward to seeing you," Molly told her surreptitiously, "Certainly indeed; he gets a little sparkle in his eye when he talks about you."
Sarah found herself speechless by this knowledge. She thought about the taxi which had left only minutes ago, and daydreamed, yet again, about riding away. She had dated Sirius during their Hogwarts years off and on, and wondered what kind of stories Sirius had shared with the Weasley's. When she left for the United States, they resolved to break up permanently.
During the first war, she took a break from her education and came to fight, where her relationship with Sirius was rekindled, once or twice (or several times). She had run back to the States shortly after Sirius was arrested, and she finished her education. She returned just one year ago.
Her thoughts were broken by a clink of glass on the large wooden table in front of her. Arthur had set down a shot of fire whiskey and Sarah immediately picked up and tipped the glass. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Nothing will bring you back from daydreams and into reality quite like fire whiskey. She placed a somewhat forced smile back on her face. She thought, maybe it looked forced, and quickly wiped the smile off. Sarah never knew what to do with her face.
Finding a bit of liquid courage, she said to Molly, "Yes, yes, I was absolutely good friends with all of them, and I'd like to think I still am. Speaking of Remus and Sirius, are they here?" She inquired. She checked her watch, nasty habit, it was 10:12.
"Remus should be here shortly, and Sirius is cleaning out the study with some of the children. It's the second door on the left down the main hall if you'd like to say hello," Molly told her with a smirk as she grabbed leeks out of midair, "I'd imagine Sirius would like that very much."
Sarah continued to sit there, considering better to just wait here. She wanted to see Sirius, but she wasn't sure he wanted to see her.
"Does Sirius know I'm here?" she asked, signaling Arthur for another glass. He kindly complied.
"Well, he knows you are coming my dear, but he must not know you are here. He would be in this room if he did," Arthur said, kissing Molly on the cheek.
Sarah nodded. She stood up and nervously adjusted her black pencil dress yet again. She had always been tremendously anxious, and she thought Sirius might find it amusing she hadn't lost this. She had poured over psychology books at her years at Hogwarts, trying to figure out techniques to soothe her anxiety. Before she left for college, Sirius told her she was pursuing her degree to fix herself, "but you can't always fix crazy my love, and I'm not sure I would like you as much if you were fixed," he had told her, kissing her lightly on the nose.
She staggered down the hallway, not sure if it was her anxiety or her drink, maybe both. Each step felt like a mile, and the noise of her heels was deafening. She kept her eye on the second door on the left until it was right in front of her. Breathing a heavy sigh, she opened the door and peeked in.
There were three redheaded boys quarrelling in a corner. Two looked precisely the same. The twin on the left was holding a black garbage bag and the other was gripping the third, slightly smaller, boy's collar.
"You are going to help us clean the cobwebs Ronald, or we will tell mother," he threatened. The other twin had an enormous white smile across his face.
"Yes Ronald, we will tell mother you are being unhelpful," the twin on the right repeated.
Obviously Weasley's, the red hair was a dead giveaway.
She scanned to the left of them, and the racket of the room disintegrated into white noise. Sirius had his back turned, looking at a framed portrait on the wall with a shorter, black haired boy. Harry Potter. They were discussing something in quiet voices. Sarah decided to leave, but a loud creak of the door gave her away. Sirius turned around and caught her eye; a smile erupted across his face.
"Well, that can't be Sarah Owen's. I know it can't. She went and disappeared," he put his hands into the pockets of his velvet formed vest and strode towards her, with a swagger he hadn't lost. The white noise evaporated as he reached her. He gestured for a hug, and she nervously moved towards him, adjusting her dress. They embraced, her heart racing, and she wondered if his was too.
"You look as beautiful as ever," he whispered into her ear. As they let go, he straightened and seized her gaze once more, "as beautiful as the day I first laid eyes on you as a matter of face."
"You're almost as bad of a liar as Arthur," she said, aware of the wrinkles that had started to form around her eyes, "almost. But I'll be inclined to believe you because you are certainly just as handsome. You always were the best looking man in the room. Age suits you well."
"Yes, prison did wonderful things for my complexion," Sirius said sharply. Rapidly changing the subject, "Harry, come here." Sarah was shocked as she watched Harry walk towards her. She had met him once, when he was an infant, and now he was almost a man. She could see so much of James and Lily in him.
"Harry, this is Sarah Owens, a longtime friend," Sirius introduced, "Maid of honor at your parents wedding this one."
"It's a pleasure to see you again Harry," Sarah said, forcing the words to come. She embraced him, (maybe the Weasley's were rubbing off on her) and it was closer to Lily she had felt since she died.
"The pleasure is mine Ms. Owens," Harry said, prying her off of him. She might have hugged him a little too tight for his comfort.
"And this is Hermione Granger. Smart one here Sarah, smarter than you perhaps," Sirius said snidely.
"Dr. Owen's! I'm Hermione Granger, er, yeah like Sirius said. And I've heard of you! You attended a muggle University! First witch to ever attend! You have a degree in clinical psychology. I've read about it in several books at Hogwarts. It is so great to meet you!" Hermione said frantically, reaching out her hand for a shake.
"Ms, Granger, you know more about me than I do," Sarah said, shaking Hermione's hand, which was a little damp with anxiety. She felt a kindred spirit in Hermione.
"And that is Ron, and the twins are Fred and George Weasley. Look out for the twins, trouble makers they are," Sirius informed her.
"That's the Black calling the kettle a pot," Fred said, snickering. George punched him in the shoulder for making such a stupid joke, and the two cackled. Sarah had sisters who were twins, and she had always wanted one herself. She felt like having a twin must be like having a secret only two people in the world are in on.
"It's so nice to meet all of you. I'm sure we will become fast friends. I will, after all, be joining you at Hogwarts this year," she notified them.
"Oh! Are you the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Ron asked, excitedly.
"Well, no. Professor Dumbledore has asked me to come on as a school therapist actually. During these troubled and turbulent times, we may all need an ear," Sarah told them like she was reading from a pamphlet. She knew from the expressions on the teen's faces, she was making a bad first impression.
Her brief moment of calm dissolved into mental chaos, and she became nervous once again. She adjusted her dress and checked her watch, 10:24.
"Well again, it was so great to meet you all. I look forward to getting to know you better. Sirius," she said, turning to him, "the meeting is about to begin. Shall we?"
Sirius reached for her hand, "lead the way love."
Hermione gave a tiny gasp and she could feel stares on them. They were all confused by this gesture. She thought she heard the twins whistle as they walked out of the room, hand in hand.
They made it a few paces down the hallway, when Sirius opened the first door on the left and pulled her in.
He closed the door slowly, so it made no noise, and turned to face her. She closed her eyes preparing for a warm hello and was starkly awakened by his cold voice.
"Where did you go?" He asked, finally showing what she had been afraid of, pain.
"You had been arrested Sirius! I thought … I thought what everybody else though. What Remus thought, what Dumbledore thought, what the entire wizarding community thought!" Sarah said desperately. "I mean Christ Sirius! You were convicted without a trail! I thought they must have indisputable evidence."
"Do you want to know what I thought?" Sirius asked, waiting for an answer. She nodded as small as she felt. "As I sat in Azkaban, hanging on by a thread, I thought that if all others thought I was a traitor and murderer, if I die in here, I thought there was at least one goddamn person who would know I was an innocent man. And that was a comforting thought, maybe the only one the dementor's never took away from me. Do you know who I thought that person was?" he asked in an angry and raspy whisper.
"I … I do know you," she said, a tear streaming down her face.
"I know you've been with the Ministry for over a year. So Sarah, how long have you known I was here, alone with a hippogriff? When did Dumbledore tell you?" Sirius asked, intent on honesty.
"If I'm being honest," she paused, "four months ago," she said, never looking up from the floor, focusing on her tears splashing on the hardwood.
"Four fucking months," he repeated. He opened the door and closed it behind him, leaving her alone.
After a bit, she was able to slow the tears. There was nothing she could say to defend herself. She had assumed Sirius was guilty of the murder of 12 muggles and of her friend Peter. The grief she had felt when she lost Lily and James clouded her judgement. Grief changes people, it certainly changed her, and at the time she assumed it changed Sirius, for the worse.
And she had known where he was for four months, since the day Dumbledore payed her a visit at the Ministry. She asked about him but she hadn't come. She chose to stay away. Why? Out of fear, she thought. She had only seen that look Sirius had just given her moments earlier once before; it was the look she had on her face when she found out he was arrested. It was the look of a person utterly betrayed.
She noticed a dirty mirror hanging on the opposite end of the room, and she adjusted her dress as she approached it. Her makeup had not run, thanks to a little charm she learned from a friend, but her long and wavy chestnut hair had become disheveled. She must have run her hands through it dozens of times after Sirius left, attempting to soothe her own emotions. She took a hair band off of her wrist and pulled it into a knotted bun on the top of her head.
"You look like a doctor," she said to herself awkwardly in the mirror. She went for the door.